Secrets Revealed
by Ferretina
Summary: This fan fiction takes place after the fourth season of Sherlock. It features John Watson and Sherlock Holmes as Sherlock struggles to come to terms with the revelations and feelings Eurus leaves behind. Johnlock!
1. Chapter 1 part 1

**Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. They are property of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and BBC.**

 _Ferretina here, I hope you like my fanfiction, which will hopefully be updating every week depending on length of update. If I make a mistake in spelling or phrasing please feel free to comment so I can fix it. I would love to hear feedback and any way I can improve this fanfiction. Enjoy!_

Chapter 1 part 1

\--John--

I am sitting in the armchair opposite of Sherlock. I watched him. He hadn't been the same since he had discovered his sister, Eurus. He sat slumped in the chair with a haunted look in his eyes as he stared emptily at a pack of cigarettes held loosely in his hands. It has been two months since we had got back from Sherrinford and one monthe since I had moved back in with him, bringing Rose with me. It hadn't helped and I am getting worried. He says he is fine but I have been sitting in this chair for an hour drinking tea that I made for us and he hasn't noticed. Usually I would simply think that he was just too busy thinking to acknowledge my presence but he hasn't touched his tea. That never happens. Usually he throws a fit when something bad happens or shoots holes in the wall. This time nothing. I have had enough and I am getting seriously worried. I need to do something. "Right," I say in a no-nonsense tone, while standing up, "Get up. This has gone on long enough. We're going to solve a case." Sherlock merely grunted in response. This is going to take a lot of work.

It had been three weeks since my last attempt at getting Shelock out of his listless moping. With every passing day I get increasingly worried and a little piece of me breaks. Even Rose has picked up on it. She wakes up in the middle of the night crying and nothing I can do seems to calm her down. Sherlock was always amazing at getting her to calm down. Now he ignores her just as he does me, but I don't think he realises that he is doing it. It is as if the life is slowly leaking out of him like a balloon slowly deflating. I know that Sherlock is brooding over what happened with Molly and needs a push in the right direction. I juat hope I am doing the right thing.

My hand shakes as I look up Molly's number on the contact list in my phone. I take a deep breath before I press the call button.


	2. Chapter 1 Part 2

**Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. They are property of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and BBC.**

Chapter 1 Part 2

\--Sherlock--

People think I do not feel. They are wrong. I feel everything. And now I am lost. The definition of a sociopath is a lack of empathy. I do not lack empathy, I simply do not show it. On the outside I am emotion less. Calm and as strong as stone. On the inside I am a sea of emotions, raging as it would in a storm and I am a raft, heaved by the never ending waves with no land in sight. No one understands. Not even John.

I almost lost him. The one constant in my life, the person I can always count on. Given a choice between my life and John's I would always choose John. He does not understand the depth of my feelings for him. Nor could he. I don't understand them myself. The great Sherlock Holmes does not undersand. The media would have a field day.

It hursts every time I see John. I see so many emotions in his eyes. The hurt, the disappointment, the frustration and probably the worst is the worry. He tries. I know he tries, but I don't know what to do.

The ring of the doorbell brings me out of my despair and thoughts. I don't bother trying to deduce who it is. The only person who comes round is Mycroft, attempting to give back his last birthday present. One of the few things capable of eliciting some sort of emotion from him. A goldfish. It was John's idea, knowing how Mycroft usually refers to people.

I pulled the door open to see Molly, whose expression quickly morphed from shocked to an expression of worry. I suppose I did not look my best. And may not have had a shower in a while. Or eaten. I always forget to eat. And sleep.

I realise that I have been standing in front of her without saying anything, simply staring. I stand aside, not trusting myself to speak. She slips by me, walking into the flat and Mrs Hudson, who was bustling about in the kitchen, muttering about various body parts in the fridge offered her a cup of tea.

Two minutes later we were sitting opposite each other, both holding a cup of tea. I cleared my throat. "I am sure you are wondering about the phone call you recieved two months and four days ago," I began. "As it turns out I have a sister. Someone smarter than both Mycroft and I combined. Her name is Eurus. She is currently held in a place called Sherrinford, John and I had only discovered her existence recently, about a week before you received the phone call. Mycroft had hidden her existence from me." I stated allowing this to sink in. Molly's expression was unreadable. I shifted uncomfortably. I always hated explaining things.

"How can that be?" She said quietly, "How can you not know that you have a sister?"

"I suppressed the memories and reinvented them after she drowned my childhood best friend." Another statement. I do like those. "We are getting off topic, I discovered her existence so I decided to visit her. Mycroft had put her in a hight security prison facility on a remote island. The facility was called Sherrinford. She was different even more so than Mycroft and I. She recruited everyone she ever spoke to until everyone in Sherrinford was on her side. I am sure you can imagine that did not do well. Your life depended on you saying those three words." I said nervously, wondering how she would react. "I do love you," I say continuing, figuring it was better to get it over with, "Just not in the way you want." Molly was silent for several minutes. Finally she asked, "Do you love him?"

"Yes" I said, grasping her meaning. "I do."


	3. Chapter 1 Part 3

**Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. They are property of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and BBC.**

Chapter 1 Part 3

\--John--

I decided to get out the flat before Molly came over. I was trying to give Sherlock some privacy to explain what happened, so I went food shopping. Rose and I are currently ignoring the glances and whispers that seem to follow me everywhere. It really annoys me. Why can't people mind their own business? Or at least only gossip when I am actually out of earshot. Rose is unaware of it as usual. She is too absorbed in taking in her new surroundings. She always seems to love the bright colours of all the products on the shelves. Hopefully this will be a big enough hint to get Sherlock to eat again. He has lost a lot of weight recently, always forgetting to eat and the drugs don't help. He thinks I don't notice but I do.

I deliberately take my time wandering around the shop. I hope Sherlock won't be angry at me for calling Molly but I had to do something. He couldn't have gone on much longer the way he was. Sometimes I wonder how he survived without me. I would have thought he would have starved to death long ago.

I glance at my watch. It has been about an hour and I can tell Rose is getting tired again so I pay for the food, planning to walk home. It is cold when I leave the shop so I stop to make sure Rose isn't cold. But when I bend down I see a car hurtling towards me, going off the road and onto the pavement. I only have enough time to sheild Rose before it hits me. My last thought I hope Sherlock remembers to eat if I die.

\--Sherlock--

Molly left in tears. I got an odd tight sensation in my chest when I saw her cry but I know there was nothing I could do short of lying to her. My phone pings with a text. Odd. John usually prefers to call. The only person who texts me is Mycroft, prefering the distance of texting to the intimacy of calls. I look down to see a text from an unknown number.

 **YOU TAKE SOMETHING OF MINE AND I TAKE SOMETHING OF YOURS.**

That is increasingly odd. The text is clearly from someone currently driven by emotion- not clarifying who it is from or what I did, assuming I will find out what they did. Moments later I my phone begins to ring. It's Lestrade. "Lestrade this is not the time," I say, answering the phone.

"Yeah, well it better be because John and Rose have been in an accident. I haven't been able to see them. I only found out bec-"

I hang up. This cannot be happening. I just got John back, I can't loose him again. I run outside and wave down a taxi. "Saint Barts" I snap to the driver, slowly breaking inside. Whe drive for what feels is an eterybefore the taxi stops. I fling random notes at the driver before jumping out and running inside. "John and Rosamund Watson," I say at the front desk, startling the nurse. The nurse takes her time looking them up on the computer.

"Rosamund Watson is in the pediatric ward, but you cannot see her unless you are direct family." She says sternly.

"I am," I instantly reply before remembering that people recognise me and know who I am. The nurse gives me a flat stare. I don't have time for this. The nurse simply sighs at my agitated state and says

"John Watson, ward C, room 5."

When I arrive at the room I see Lestrade pacing in front of the door. I shove him aside and burst in.

"How is he?" I demand, making the doctor who was currently writing on John's chart shrink back. I look to John. He looks so fragile and small in the hospital bed, covered in bruises and abrasions. The doctor eventually finds his voice, squeaking "Three cracked ribs, a collapsed lung and a shard of metal from the car impaled his stomach. Some head trauma as well. We had to operate. But he isn't waking up. He's in a coma." I stood there numbly before collapsing in the chair next to John's bed. This couldn't happen.

"And his daughter?" I eventually ask.

"A few scratches, but otherwise unharmed."

Thank god for small mercies. This is where Mycroft would tell me that I set myself up to fall, forming an attachment to humans who are bound to get hurt and die. This couldn't be happening, not to John who has already been through so much.


	4. Chapter 2 Part 1

**Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. They are property of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and BBC.**

Chapter 2 Part 1

\--Sherlock--

It is interesting how one's perspective can change in an instant. It only takes one second for someone's life, their entire reason for existence to shatter and instantly form into something new. It is somewhat disconcerting.

I am sitting in the chair next to John's hospital bed and watch him. It had been twenty seven hours since I first heard about the accident and he hasn't woken up. It was unlikely he would, statistically speaking. Despite this I haven't left my chair. I know it is stupid and so human of me but I feel if I move, if I leave this chair, I would be giving up and allowing this to happen. It is ironic because I have no say in this situation and am completely powerless. I hate being powerless.

I was torn out of my thoughts by the sound of my phone ringing. It was Lestrade. "What do you want?" I say tersely.

"I need you to come and look at a crime scene. It might inter-"

"No." I snap, fully aware I am interrupting him before hanging up. I did not have time for this, and there is no point in taking a case without John. What would be the point. Lestrade knew this. And he is fully aware John is in a coma. I sighed at the way my thoughts kept coming back to John. I could not even take solace in my mind palace. John was everywhere. What was I going to do without him?

Luckily I did not have to answer myself as Mrs Hudson walked into the room carrying Rose and making the room slightly less soulless. "Sherlock!" She says fondly, "How are you feeling?" As if I were the one who was injured, as if I were the one who might never wake up. She began to grow concerned as I just stared at her emptily. She thrust Rose into my arms before asking a barrage of questions regarding my health and wellbeing. How can she care about me when John was lying there? I couldn't even protect him. Mrs Hudson narrowed her eyes at me. "You are taking a case." She says matter of factly. What? How did she come to that conclusion? She begins to look indignant. "You can't just sit here and waste away. John wouldn't want that." Grudgingly I admit she is right. "Fine, I will call Lestrade."

"The bumbling idiots look as clueless as ever." I remark, arriving at the crime scene with Lestrade.

"You know, you are a lot nicer with Dr Watson around." Lestrade remarks.

"I am a lot nicer when my flat mate isn't in a coma." I sanp. Lestrade merely gives a wounded look at my comment. "Wait a minute, isn't this Janine's house?" I say looking to Lestrade. He doesn't say anything, only walkes to the front door. When I enter I immediately notice how cold it is, no doubt to preserve a body for as long as possible. I follow the faint stench of decay to the kitchen. Janine is lying on the floor dead with a knife in her stomach. I don't feel anything apart from vague annoyance. She was only an acquaintance, a tool to help solve a case. I inspect my surroundings. The place is messy, indicating that she knows this person enough that they know her tendencies. She has two mugs out and two coffee pods out next to the coffe machine- one more luxurious than the other, showing dislike, although she would have liked this person in the past as there is a jar of instant coffee on the counter. If she had never liked this person she would have given them instant, but she has offered them pods in the past and would feel reluctantly inclined to do so now. The mess in the kitchen is an organised mess, nothing obviously knocked onto the floor and only a small pool of blood. She hadn't struggled. I looked closer at the knife in her stomach. It was clearly a kitchen knife. I took a look in a few of the drawers. It was the same make as the ones in her knife drawer.

The killer obviously knew the way about the kitchen, able to locate the knife and hide it in the few seconds her back was turned to take the mugs out before turning to the killer and being stabbed, clearly being too surprised to put up a fight. These facts point to either an ex or a disliked sibling.

I am one of her exes and seized all contact with me, so it would be unlikely that she would let one in her house. I remember she mentioned once when we were together that she had a brother she didn't like. "It was the brother." I say to Lestrade, who was hovering at the entrance to the kitchen. "Now if you excuse me I am hoing back to the hospital." I stride past a shocked looking Lestrade. Honestly by now you would think he would be used to it.


	5. Chapter 2 Part 2

**Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. They are property of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and BBC.**

 _Secrets Revealed will now update every Sunday, but with shorter updates like this one, another update will come later in the week. Please leave a review so I can improve it as it is a work in progress :)_

Chapter 2 Part 2

\--Sherlock--

Mrs Hudson insists that because I am Rose's godfather, I must take care of her rather than 'spend my every waking moment at the hospital.' It has been three days since I solved Janine's case and I still haven't heard anything more about it. I feel obligated to know about it, all things considered. John still hasn't woken up and I am no closer to figuring out who the driver that hit John was.

I stare out the window, lost in thought and rocking Rose in my arms. She seems as if she can't stand not being picked up. If I ever put her down she immediately starts crying. I seems less effort to continue holding her than attempt to calm her. The only time I put her down and she does not cry is when I pit her down to play my violin. She seems to enjoy it. It's as if she is turning out to be a little mini John - although I hope she doesn't end up with John's terrible deduction skills. I shudder at the thought, although I do find the small creature rather endearing. I smile down at her and she gurgles in response. Merriment sances in her eyes in the way it only could in a child's. I thought taking care of a child would have been much more irritating, but it has its moments. No doubt because it has only been three days, but it feels like an eternity without John.

My phine rings. It keeps doing that. I should probably get rid of it considering all it does is distract me from my work and rings at the worst possible time, usually in the middle of experiments and ruining several of them. I can tell the ringing is starting to upset Rose, her face scrunching up. I quickly put her down and give her the skull off the mantle to appease her for a short time. I answer the phone before she can take a breath to start screaming because although Rose does not cry often, when she does it is not a quiet, nor quick affair.

It's Lestrade calling again. I am seriously considering getting rid of this stupis phone. "They found Janine's brother's DNA on the body." Lestrade says as a greeting. "Of course they did." I reply, slightly frustrated. "I told you that didn't I?" Lestrade sighed.

"He is going on trial tomorrow. Your presence has been requested." I snort.

"Pass."

"Sherlock..." I could feel the suffering in his voice. Drama Queen.

"If you must, you can FaceTime me on John's laptop." I sighed again. "If you can't convict him with everything I gave you, why even bother asking me to solve the case?" Lestrade merely hung up. Rude.


	6. Chapter 2 Part 3

**Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. They are property of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and BBC.**

 _Authors Notes: Apologies for the drastically late update, updates may be a tad sporadic until I get ahead, as I was a bit stuck on what to do... Any ideas for the future of this story I would love to hear! This will be a short conclusion to Chapter 2, chapter 3 will hopefully be a lot longer. Reviews would be greatly appreciated. Sometimes one shot stories help me write, to continue on with a story so if anyone wants a one shot ( or longer, please specify) feel free to PM me, or leave it in the comments. It doesn't have to be Sherlock, as I am a Harry Potter fangirl and belong to many other fandoms._

 _Summary of Authors Notes: I am super sorry, please review. I promise chapter 3 will be better._

Chapter 2 Part 3

\--Sherlock--

They called me. I knew they would. I should not have offered, but I wanted Lestrade to shut up and it seemed the most efficient way. The justice system is stupid, they phone me and don't believe when I say he is guilty. Ugh. Everyone always questions me. Well. Everyone except Rose. I smile, knowing I shouldn't and Mycroft would disapprove of my balant display of human emotion. Okay that just makes me smile more but it is beside the point. I have come to care about the small, curious creature quite alot.

"Sherlock?" Mrs Hudson calls from the stairs, "John's awake."


	7. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. They are property of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and BBC.**

 _Author's Notes: I was planning to leave this for a while but, I got a review! And it inspired me to get my act together (mainly because someone was reading my dribble and liked it) - the chapters may not come a few times every week now but will be in full chapter. Hopefully this will be better._

 _Thank you **xXYou-Can't-Judge-MeXx**_

Chapter 3

\--John--

I want to sleep, to give myself back to the darkness that surrounds me, but something is stopping me. Words. Annoying words of a prick that in and out of focus. "-ear to god John if you go back to sleep now when I just got here I will finish what the driver started." Of course.

"Sherlock?" I ask, to clarify- the statement almost seemed emotional.

"Honestly John if you can't recognise me there really is no hope." Definitely Sherlock. I guess my peace couldn't last long. Where am I anyway? The last thing I remember is Rose, holding Rose - no shielding her. And a car. Crap. Rose. What if Rose is hurt. "Rose?" I ask Sherlock, my voice breaking. "Perfectly fine John." I sigh in relief. Sherlock's voice semmed to soften. I crack my eyes open my eyes at that but the brightness is blinding. I really want to go back to sleep but I get the feeling that is not an option. To the trained eye Sherlock looks almost worried. To most his face would be impassive, but I have learned to see the emotion on his face that he tries so hard not to feel. I can see the worry in the slight crinkle at the edge of his eyes and the way his lips are ever so slightly turned down at the corners. I guess it must have been bad - life threatening even. "Mrs Hudson insisted that I had to take care of her." I smiled at the slight scowl on his face as he glares at the floor. That would have been fun to see. I bet she gave him hell.

I sigh again, knowing I should ask. "How bad?" Sherlock looks up at me, this time his face is carefully blank"Three cracked ribs, a collapsed lung and a shard of metal was in your stomach. You had some head trauma as well. They had to operate on you John and you were in a coma for four days. Four days John." I looked away, shocked. I didn't think it would be that bad. When I looked back at Sherlock he was clearly distressed. "Well," I said, trying to break the tension, "Now you know how it feels." I smiled. Sherlock just stared. I guess that was the wrong thing to say. "You almost died John." He said venomously. "Don't do it again." I looked at him. I really looked.

"Are you alright?" I asked him carefully.

"Alright?" He shouted "You have been in a coma for four days and you almost died. You just woke up and you are asking me if I am alright?"

"Yes." I simply stated.

"No I'm not alright John don't do it again please." He replied before hugging me. Higging me. Sherlock Holmes hugging me. Maybe Rose had a good influence on him.

\--Sherlock--

Not that I would show it but I was terrified. I was terrified of losing him and he just sits there looking so small and frail in his hospital bed and asks if I am alright. Me. He acts so calm. As if someone didn't just try to kill him. How could he not react? My mind goes into another loop. _John almost died. John's alive._

 _Johnalmostdied.John'salive.Johnalmostdied.John'salive.Johnalmostdied.John'salive.Johnalmostdied.John'salive.Johnalmostdied.John'salive.Johnalmostdied.John'salive._

 ** _-Stop-_**

I hug him, although I can tell he is surprisedI the sit back in the chair and order him to go to sleep. He doesn't even argue. I retreat into my mind palace. I need to sort through all the new information, regarding John and the depth of my feelings. John has an entire wing of my palace and I remember every interaction I have ever had with him, although I need to create more space. I delete Lestrade's first name and the entire royal family. Neither of these things are particularly important anyway.

By the time I exit my mind palace I can tell several hours have passed but John is still asleep. I shift in the chair beside him before leaving a note and striding out of the room.


	8. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. They are property of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and BBC.**

 _I got another review yay! Thanks **WizardingWhovian** but you will probably be waiting a while :D sorry._

 _Please leave a review, they fuel my soul._

 _Italic is a flashback._

Chapter 4

\--John--

When I woke up it was dark outside and the chair beside my bed was empty. Sherlock was gone, but there was a note on the chair. I managed to reach over to get it with a lot of difficulty and struggling. I snorted when I read it.

 _Gone back to Baker Street - bring a set of human lungs back with you._

Typical, although I suppose it was better than the weirdness that has being going on recently. Well. Weirder than usual.

Three weeks. Three torturous weeks. The only bright side during those three weeks Sherlock was that visited with Rose everyday. He couldn't grasp that when injured normal people rest before galavanting round London chasing after murderers. It was endearing in a way.

No matter how many visits I got it didn't stop me from hating the patient side of hospitals. So very boring, and slightly worrying considering Sherlock was still acting odd. He would fuss and stare at me when he thought I wasn't looking. Usually I wouldn't be bothered but when he stares at me he gets this look on his face- slightly disbelieving and worried. I try to brush it off, figuring that looking after Rose is getting to him, as well as Janine's death.

\--Sherlock--

Three weeks and I still don't know who tried to kill John. The attacker was good - the car had it's licence plates removed and the inside was empty of any DNA or evidence. It was a complete dead end and it was killing me inside. I was so stupid and useless. I couldn't even protect my friend.

I was so desperate I even called Mycroft.

 _I sat opposite Mycroft and fought the urge to fidget. I hate lunch with Mycroft. He is sitting opposite me and giving me the familiar look - knowing with a hint of condescension and disappointment. I hate that look. It's the look that says I am never good enough. I aways get that look, but now it is worse than ever. "Well?" I say, unable to continue suffering under my brother's watchful gaze. "Well brother mine, I looked as you asked." He answered, his face unreadable as always. He looks into his tea. "And?" I ask, growing impatient. He looks up at me. "Nothing. Not a thing." I throw my cup across the room in frustration. No doubt it was expensive, knowing Mycroft. But I can't seem to care. If Mycroft doesn't know, how am I supposed to solve this case? How am I supposed to protect him? I get up to leave but stop when Mycroft begins to speak again. "I will keep trying." I nod in thanks, knowing that that was his way of telling me that he will protect John. But what if that is not enough?_


End file.
